


The Dovahkiin's Journey

by shadowNova



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Amnesia, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Combat, Dissociation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 14:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14979356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowNova/pseuds/shadowNova
Summary: Waking up in a cart, with her hands tied and her memories gone, wasn't Siyima's idea of a good time. Neither, for that matter, was nearly being executed, or having to run for her life from an oversized lizard. In fact, none of this was her idea of a good time, she so did not sign up for this. Too bad no one thought to ask her before they went and made her the Dragonborn.





	The Dovahkiin's Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may have seen my previous attempt at this story, 'Dragonborn diaries'. In the time since I last worked on that fic, I'v gotten a clearer picture of how I want to do the story- and found a better way to do it than just using her journal entries. With that in mind, I have decided that starting over is the most prudent course of action- which in this case, means you get much more content, so yay.

Waking up hurt. The first thing to enter the bosmer's awareness was a flair of pain as her head smacked against the edge of something, her entire body jumping as whatever she was sitting on bounced beneath her. She groaned, doubling over and reaching for the injured spot- only to come up short as she found that her hands were bound. Her eyes opened now, bright light causing her to hiss in pain and squeeze them shut again.

 

A soft chuckle, and a gentle voice, drew her attention away from the pain in her skull. "Finally awake, are we?" She lifted her head slightly, peering through a curtain of red hair to look at the figure across from her- a nordic man, his eyes sparkling with amusement, sat across from her, his own hands bound in his lap. She realized now why her seat seemed to be moving- because it was, as the cart they were sat in rolled along behind a horse, ridden by a man in brownish-red armor.

 

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" Was she? What border, though? And for that matter, where was she? Her head was a mess, so she just offered the man a small nod in lieu of an actual answer. He seemed to accept it, nodding to himself. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that theif over there."

 

A new voice interjected, and she turned her head to see a black haired man sitting next to the one who had first spoken, scowling. "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now."

 

Empire? Stormcloaks? None of it seemed familiar. She vaguely registered the one across from her responding to the man, as she wracked her mind, trying to make sense of what was going on. She couldn't remember anything before that first moment of pain, and a shot of fear ran through her. Who  _ was _  she? What was she? The uncertainty was terrifying.

 

She heard the conversation continue around her, but it seemed that none of them minded her silence- which was rather fortuitous, as she was certain that if she spoke, her voice would betray the panic running through her.

 

She wasn't drawn from her thoughts again until the cart rolled to a halt, her head jerking up. The thief looked up as well, alarm showing on his face. "What's going on? Why are we stopping?" Her own mind echoed the question, her gaze flicking to the man sitting across from her.

 

"Why do you think? End of the line." He couldn't possibly mean- could he? She inhaled sharply, another jolt of fear running through her. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

 

"No, wait! We're not rebels!" She couldn't blame him for pleading- she wanted to scream the same, to swear up and down that she wasn't involved in whatever was going on- but fear gripped her vocal cords in an icey fist, as she stumbled to her feet, following the others down from the cart.

 

"Face your death with some courage, thief," the nord scolded, and she bit back a hysterical laugh. She didn't want to have courage. She didn't want to die, not without knowing who she was. Not like this.

 

"You've got to tell them, we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

 

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!"

 

Behind her, the nord huffed in irritation. "Empire loves their damn lists..."

 

A man in shiny metal armor stood before them now, checking off names on a list. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The gagged man she'd spent the ride next to stepped away from them.

 

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the nord muttered.

 

"Ralof of Riverwood." The nord- who was evidently named Ralof- stepped away now, leaving her watching with wide, panicked eyes. "Lokir of Rorikstead."

 

"No! I'm not a rebel, you can't do this!" The thief's panicked voice cut through the air- before he sprinted forward, pushing past the armored woman. and ignoring her demands for him to halt. "You're not going to kill me!"

 

She watched in horror as they did exactly that, arrows raining down onto him and leaving him bleeding on the ground. She couldn't tear her gaze away, watching as the stone was stained crimson.

 

"Anyone else feel like running?" The woman sneered mockingly, and she turned her head towards her, eyes wide.

 

"Wait." The man with the list frowned now, looking directly at her. "You there. Step forward." Her numb legs carried her to stand in front of him, knees trembling. She wanted to beg, to demand to be released- but in the end, she stood silent before him. "Who  _ are _ you?"

 

If only she knew the answer- but she was just as lost as he was. She gave him the only answer she could, her voice shaking as she offered up the one thing she remembered.

 

"Siyima."

 

He looked her over, before looking back to his list, muttering to himself. "Not many wood elves would choose to come alone to Skyrim..." He frowned, lifting his head and looking to the woman next to him. "Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list."

 

Her hopes soared for a moment- "Forget the list. She goes to the block."- only to be ruthlessly crushed by the next words out of the woman's mouth.

 

He hesitated a moment, the barest fraction of a second, before nodding. "By your orders, Captain." He looked to Siyima now, his face regretful. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood. Follow the Captain, prisoner."

 

She obeyed, feeling like her body had been dunked in a tub of ice. What had she done to deserve death? It wasn't fair! She hadn't even had a chance to live yet! She wanted to scream, to rage- but in the end, she came to stand silently beside Ralof, her eyes watering. He offered her a reassuring smile, as in front of them, a man in red armor gave a speech she paid no attention to- her gaze solely on the hooded man weilding a blood covered ax behind him.

 

A distant roar shook the air, causing her head- like the ones of those around her- to jerk up, scanning the sky. "What was that?"

 

"It's nothing. Carry on."

 

Siyima was really starting to hate that guard captain, as the woman saluted sharply. "Yes, general Tullius!" She turned to a woman in orange robes. "Give them their last rites."

 

Siyima wanted to scream in fury as the apparent priest nodded, intending to follow along in this mockery of justice. She started reciting off what must have been the aforementioned last rites, only to be interrupted as one of the Stormcloaks pushed forward, marching up to the block. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."

 

The priestess must have been as shocked as Siyima felt, for she took a step back, pausing for a moment. "...As you wish," she replied, sounding offended.

 

The man sneered at the Imperials. "Come on! I haven't got all morning." A hysterical laugh bubbled up from Siyima's chest, barely forced down as the nearest soldier shoved the man down to his knees, pushing his head into the indent in the blood soaked chopping block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

 

They didn't dignify him with a response- the headman silently lifted the axe, bringing it down and cutting off the rebel's head with a distressing 'chunk' sound. Blood spewed from his neck, soaking the ground, as his head rolled into the crate in front of him. Beside her, Ralof sighed in admiration. "As fearless in death, as he was in life."

 

"Next, the wood elf!" Horror ran through Siyima, her gaze darting to the Captain. What had she done to make the woman hate her so? Why was she being singled out? The questions ran through her mind as another roar shook the air.

 

"There it is again, did you hear that?" The man with the list looked around, but his captain only scowled.

 

"I said. Next. Prisoner."

 

Siyima looked to the man pleadingly, but he only shook his head. "To the block prisoner. Nice and easy." Blood spilled onto her feet as she forced herself to walk up to the block.

 

The corpse hadn't even been removed- just shoved to the side as Siyima approached. She didn't care that she was sobbing in terror now, as she was shoved to her knees, her head pushed into the blood soaked indent, the decapitated head of the rebel staring up at her from the crate below. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the axe to fall-

 

Only for the ground to shake, panicked cries rising up from around her. A thundering roar shook the world, knocking her to her side as burning heat washed over her. She lay there a moment, dazed, before Ralof's voice broke through. "Hey, wood elf! Come on, get up! The Gods won't give us another chance!"

 

Numb, still in shock, she scrambled to her feet, frantically running after her savior. They rushed into a tower, Ralof slamming the door shut behind him as she nearly collapsed against the wall, gasping. "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

 

For the first time, she heard the voice of the man she had rode beside, cold and disdainful. "Legends don't burn down villages." Another roar shook the air, and Ulfric lifted his head, his eyes narrowing. "We need to move, now!"

 

"Up through the tower, let's go!" Ralof grabbed Siyima by the upper arm, dragging her up the stone steps faster than she could have possibly made it on her own. At the top, a pair of Stormcloaks were in the process of clearing a path- before the wall collapsed inwards on them, the dragon shoving it's head through. Ralof pulled her back just as the beast released a gout of flame, the air heating to unbearable temperatures. When the beast moved on, he dragged her up the last few steps, pointing through the hole.

 

"See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof, and keep going!" She hesitated, staring with wide eyes, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Go! We'll follow when we can!" With no other choice, she jumped.

 

Some unknown instinct took over as she fell through the air- her knees tucked up towards her chest, her arms coming up over her head, and she landed in a roll, scrambling to her feet. She didn't have time to examine it, rushing through the burning building. She exited out behind the soldier with the list, and a villager, calling to a child in the street. "Hamming! You need to get over here, now!"

 

The boy ran to him, just as the dragon landed in the street, releasing another burst of flame. "Gods, everyone get back!" The four of them scrambled into a corner just in time, and the man looked to Siyima. "Still alive, prisoner? Stay close to me if you want to stay that way!" He turned to the old villager now. "Gunnar! Take care of the boy, I have to find General Tullius and join the defence!"

 

"Gods guide you, Hadvar."

 

With no other direction as to where to go, Siyima stumbled after Hadvar, her breath coming in panicked gasps, smoke filling her lungs. He looked up- then grabbed her arm much like Ralof had done before, yanking her after him. "Stay close to the wall!"

 

The reason why was revealed in an instant, as the dragon landed on the very wall by which they took refuge, it's wing nearly crashing into them before another blast of flame was released into the street. He released her arm as it took off once more. "Quickly, follow me!"

 

She followed after him in a blind panic- until they entered out into a courtyard, and she spot Ralof entering from the other side, relief running through her. Hadvar, however, did not seem relieved. "Ralof! You damned traitor, out of my way!"

 

Ralof sneered at him, running over toward where Siyima stood. "We're escaping Hadvar, you're not stopping us this time!"

 

"Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovengarde!" Hadvar snarled at them both, as Siyma rushed into the keep behind Ralof.

 

They didn't slow until they were inside, Ralof coming to a halt beside a dead Stormcloak. Siyima doubled over, gasping for breath and coughing her head off, her lungs burning from the smoke and the exertion.

 

A hand coming to gently rest on her shoulder drew her attention, and she jerked her head up, meeting Ralof's concerned gaze. "We need to get moving. Here, give me your hands- let me see if I can get those bindings off."

 

Two quick tugs of his blade, and the leather straps fell loose, leaving Siyima rubbing at her wrists as she tried to restore feeling in them. "There you go. You may as well take Gunjar's gear- he won't be needing it anymore."

 

It should have bothered her to take the belongings of a dead man. It bothered her more that it didn't. Despite the shock, her fingers worked deftly at the buckles, stripping the corpse bare. A hole in his throat revealed the cause of his death, and Siyima squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sight, as she pulled her clothes off, tugging the blood soaked armor onto herself. The axe felt distressingly right in her hands- her grip on it firm and comfortable.

 

Ralof investigated the gates as she dressed, cursing under his breath. "Damn. No way to open this from our side. Wait- did you hear that?"

 

A familiar voice rang through the keep. "Come on soldier, keep moving!" Ralof exchanged a glance with her, before motioning for Siyima to take cover behind the wall, holding a finger up to his lips. "Get this gate open!"

 

She should have hid. That was what Ralof intended for her, surely- for the small bosmer to stay hidden as he dispatched the Imperials. But as the Captain who had ordered her death stepped into view, rage overtook her- and to her own shock, she found herself rushing forward, sinking the axe into the woman's back and yanking it free. As the Captain fell, she swung again, and again- until the woman lay unmoving before her, blood soaking the ground and her arms. Ralof pulled his blade free from the other soldier, letting the corpse fall to the floor as he glanced at Siyima. If he was as surprised by her behavior as she was, he didn't show it, merely glancing back to the corpses.

 

"Maybe one of these Imperials had the key, check them for it." Siyima nodded mutely, pushing the bodies over and digging through their pockets. She hesitated as her hands brushed their weapons- then dropped the axe, snatching up the daggers. The felt even more right in her hands- like they belonged there, had always belonged there. She lifted the key, handing it to Ralof.

 

The rebel grinned at her. "That's it! Come on, let's get out of here before that dragon brings the whole keep down on our heads." She nodded mutely, following after him.

 

As they rounded a corner into a hallway, there was an ominous rumble overhead, and Ralof pulled her back just as part of the keep collapsed in front of them. Siyima shuddered, staring. "Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy."

 

From behind the door next to them, Siyima could hear muffled voices. Ralof exchanged a glance with her- then nodded, and they burst into the room, taking down a pair of soldiers with deadly efficiency. When the two lay dead before them, Ralof glanced around.

 

"A storeroom! See if you can find any potions. We'll need them." She wasn't even sure what she was looking for- but Siyima nodded all the same, sheathing her blades. Her mind still reeled over all that had happened- but even as horror and shock washed over her, she felt herself drawing distant, as if she was only a spectator to the day's events. Almost in a daze, she searched through the containers in the room- grabbing a russack from one of the corpses and tucking the food she found into it, as well as a set of colorful bottles. She hesitated as she found a blank book, her fingers tracing over the leather cover- then tucked it into the sack as well. She still didn't know who she was, after all- but maybe if she wrote it down, later, it would help. Maybe.

 

She was still in a daze as she returned to Ralof, looking up at the taller man silently. "Done? Let's get moving, then." At her nod, he pushed the door open, and she followed behind him.

 

The sound of combat reached them now, as the pair hurried down a flight of steps- and they rounded the corner just in time to watch a pair of soldiers fall at the hands of a pair of rebels. "Troll's blood," Ralof breathed- and silently, Siyima wondered what a troll was- "It's a torture room!"

 

Siyima took a step back, staring around the room with wide eyes. It was distressingly familiar, and she shuddered, arms wrapping around herself as Ralof broke off to talk to one of the rebels. The other- the woman of the pair- stepped over to Siyima, resting a hand on her shoulder.

 

"Hey. You okay, kid?" Siyima looked up at her, eyes huge, then shook her head, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. The woman gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, offering a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. We're going to get out of here, alright? I'm Anaya. What's your name?"

 

"...Siyima," she whispered, the second time she had spoken since awakening in the cart. Anaya grinned, reaching out and ruffling her hair, uncaring of the blood matting it.

 

"Siyima? That's a nice name. You like daggers, huh?" Siyima nodded, a small bit of hysterical laughter bursting free of her. She did- so much that it scared her. She had practically reveled in the feeling of her blades sinking into the soldiers, had relished the way their blood gushed out over her hands-

 

Anaya's voice broke through her thoughts. "Can't blame you there- it must be nice to get some revenge on those bastards. Me, I prefer my bow- I can't stand the feeling of blood on my hands, you know" She didn't know, but Siyima nodded anyway. Anaya grinned at her again, giving her shoulder another squeeze. "See? You'll be fine. How old are you, kid?"

 

The panic from earlier returned, and Siyima hiccuped, biting her lip. Anaya noticed, hurriedly interjecting. "Nevermind- you don't have to tell me. You ever been in combat before?"

 

She didn't know if it was accurate, but Siyima shook her head. Anaya gave an impressed whistle. "Damn. Well, you're doing pretty damn good for a newbie, I'll tell you what. How about I give you some lessons, once we get out of here?" A hand on her shoulder, the older woman guided Siyima along after the two men as they talked, her voice low and reassuring. For the first time since waking up without her memories, Siyima started to feel less frightened, leaning into the contact.

 

They made their way through hallways and what appeared to be another torture room, Anaya keeping up a friendly stream of babble as they stepped through a hole in the wall into an earthen tunnel. She didn't seem to mind that Siyima didn't offer much commentary of her own, evidently content to fill the air with stories about her dog.

 

"And by the time I rounded to corner to the chicken pen, ol' Cass had him on the ground, his throat in her jaws! I've never been more proud of that dog- sure, maybe it was a little unnecessary, but it's not like she could have known that, you know? She thought she was defending the homestead from a deadly intruder- not my boyfriend!"

 

A small laugh escaped Siyima as the older woman finished the story, the nord's eyes glinting with  mischief. "I swear it's true! Tell you what- once we get out of here, come with me to Falkreath, I'll introduce you to her."

 

Up ahead, Ralof lifted his hand, the procession drawing to a halt behind him. Voices drifted out from the room ahead, and the three rebels exchanged glances. Silently, Anaya and her companion moved to either side of the doorway, and at Ralof's silent signal, they rushed into the room.

 

The Imperials within were taken off guard- one fell as Anaya's arrow caught him in the throat, his eyes still wide with surprise. Another found himself slit open by Siyima's blades, his insides spilling forth over her hands. Distantly, she felt horrified, by the feeling of them against her skin, the coppery scent of blood overpowering her nose- but it felt far away, like it wasn't truly hers.

 

A shout drew her attention, her head lifting as she turned- just in time to see Anaya fall to the ground, hands clutched around an arrow sticking out of her stomach. Blood gushed up over her hands, as the nord stared at the injury in shock, her gaze lifting to meet Ralof's.

 

"Anaya!" Siyima had thought she'd been afraid when the approached the headsman's block- but it paled in comparison to this, as the feeling of detachment that had carried her this far swept away from her in a wave of horror. She ran to the woman's side, sinking down beside her, uncaring of the blood covering the ground. Ralof and the other Stormcloak approached more slowly, standing back a pace.

 

Anaya offered her a weak smile, pulling a blood coated hand away from her stomach to rest it against Siyima's arm. "I guess... I guess I won't get to... get to introduce you to Cass after all, huh, kid..?" How could she joke at a  time like this? Didn't she know she was dying? A sob pushed free from Siyima, as she stared at the woman who had swiftly started to become her only friend, and Anaya raised that bloody hand, pushing a lock of red hair back from the bosmer's face. "Hey- hey, no, don't... don't cry. It's going to be... it's going to be okay. You'll be okay, kid. I promise."

 

"No- no, please- please, Anaya- you can't, you /can't/ die, please!" It was the most she'd spoken since waking up- and Gods, how she wished she was speaking under better circumstances. Beneath her, Anaya just smiled weakly, before her eyes drifted shut, and she went still. Siyima sobbed, clutching the body.

 

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, breaking down over the corpse of her only friend, blood congealing on her face as she sobbed- but a hand on her shoulder eventually drew her out of it.

 

Ralof stood next to her, his expression regretful. "There will be time for us to mourn later. We need to move on. Come on- it's not much farther now." He gently nudged her to her feet, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he started onwards again. Behind them, the other Stormcloak was quiet, looking at the dead body of his companion.

 

He didn't speak until they reached the threshold of the room, standing back a ways. "I'll keep watch in case Ulfric comes through here. Talos guide you both." Ralof nodded, giving Anaya's shoulder another squeeze and leading her through the doorway.

 

"It looks like the way out is just up ahead, come on. Let's see where this goes." This, evidently, was a drawbridge, lowered by a lever next to the wall. A roar shook the keep as they made it across- and a huge rock crashed down through the bridge, leaving it in a heap of splinters before them. Siyima stared in horror, her mind filled with images of what would have happened if she'd been just a moment slower in crossing.

 

"Well, no going back that way now," Ralof joked, sounding unphased. "We'd better push on. He'll have to find another way out." Siyima nodded, following him silently, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. They made their way down a staircase, out into an icy stream, which Ralof led her through, their boots sloshing in the freezing water. They travelled in silence for a few minutes- before Ralof held up a hand, motioning for her to stop. "Wait here."

 

Siyima stood there silently, as Ralof disappeared around a corner. There were a pair of meaty thuds- and then Ralof called out to her. "Come on, it's clear now." Rounding the corner, she saw him standing before a pair of giant spiders, the beasts rent open by his blade. She stared, eyes wide, but he just shook his head, motioning for her to follow.

 

"I hate those damn things. Too many eyes, you know?" She didn't, but she nodded anyway, following him. As they travelled further into the tunnels, Ralof came to a sudden halt, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper. "Hold up! There's a bear just up ahead, see her?"

 

She did see- a huge, brown furred beast, curled up across the stream from them in a patch of sunlight- but fortunately, it didn't seem to see them.

 

"I'd rather not tangle with her right now. Let's try to sneak by, nice and slow- and watch where you step!"

 

Siyima nodded her agreement, and the pair silently crept through the cave, holding their breath until they were clear of the beast. Ralof sighed, sounding as relieved as Siyima felt.

 

"Whew. That was close." She nodded in agreement to the statement, offering a weak smile. "Come on, it can't be much farther."

 

The path ahead lit up, and Ralof grinned. "That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!" He clapped Siyima on the shoulder, before running from the cave.

 

They broke forth into the light, and Siyma started forward- before Ralof grabbed her by the arm, dragging her back behind a rock with a frantic whisper. "Wait!" For a moment, she was confused- but then another roar shook the land, and a great shadow moved overhead. They crouched in silence for a moment as the dragon moved on, before Ralof straightened. "There he goes. It looks like he's gone for good, this time." Siyima nodded in agreement.

 

"No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be crawling with Imperials soon enough. We'd best clear out of here."

 

Clear out- but where? She still didn't know who she was- where would she go? Noticing her hesitation, Ralof gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill up in Riverwood. I'm sure she'd be willing to help you out. Come on, I'll introduce you to her."

 

With no other alternative, Siyima nodded, following him onwards.


End file.
